Day of the Dead.

Home alone. Utterly alone. Boyfriend is at the rents. Sister is with her "kids," who last I checked were pushing 20 or so. Seems like she could get away for dinner, but alas. Went to a Halloween house party last night in my kitty ears. Intentionally relapsed on "Adult Chocolate Milk." The boyfriend asked me whether my plan was to drink responsibly from now on out or to just drink with reckless abandon. I chose the former, but I know full well there's nothing responsible about Adult Chocolate Milk and kitty ears. I played pool (badly) with him and then sat on a stool, looking at Mario and Luigi battle it out over beer pong in the dining room. Eventually I began giving out hugs. Beats slapping people.

Have not accomplished anything today other than a trip to Starbucks and some wandering about my duplex stating to myself how cold I am and how fat I look. Horizontally striped sweater probably not helping. Took a nap. Considering taking another one. Stalked my very first internet boyfriend. Goddamn, he is (still) a weirdo. Or maybe I'm the weirdo for writing about him eleven years ago in here and now again as well.

I'm Onto You, You Lesbian asked me how my ex internet boyfriends are relevant to my current life. They're not, really, but I wouldn't want to go hang out in Minnesota or anything at the risk of running into them. That would be awkward. But mostly I'm a firm believer of never letting anything go, ever. Collecting little figurative heads of ex boyfriends in a room like that chick from Return to Oz and wearing them when the mood suits me. Not to sound like Dahmer or anything, but you know. I don't delete old shit off the internet either. I don't believe in erasing memories. They make you who you are. However dysfunctional that may be.

I would like to be making more memories at the moment, but can't get anyone to hang out with me.